I do as I will with my SWAIN.  

I Do as I will with my Swain,  
He never once thinks I am wrong,  
He likes none so well on the plain,  
I please him so much with my song.  
A song is the Shepherd's delight,  
He hears me with joy all the day:  
He's sorry when comes the dull night,  
That hastens the end of my lay.   

With spleen and with care not oppressed,  
He asked me to soothe him the while,  
My voice set his mind all at rest,  
And the shepherd would instantly smile  
Since when, or in mead or in grove,  
By his flocks or the clear river's side,  
I sing my best songs to my love,  
And to charm him is grown all my pride.   

No beauty had I to endear,  
No treasures of nature or art,  
But my voice that had gained on his ear  
Soon found out the way to his heart:  
To try if that voice would not please,  
He took me to join the gay throng,  
I won the rich prise all with ease,  
And my famed's gone abroad with my song.   

But let me not jealousy raise,  
I wish to enchant but my swain?  
Enough then for me is his praise,  
I sing for him the loved strain;  
When youth, wealth, and beauty m●y fail,  
And your shepherds elude all your skill,  
Your sweetness and song may prevail,  
And gain all your swains to your will.